The Comfort of A Gypsy
by angrypoetess
Summary: three weeks after the night on the rooftop, erik meets a young gypsy girl with a troubled past in the sewers of paris. erik finds he can identify with her and becomes good friends with her. after bringing her to the opera house, erik finds she is replacin
1. Prolouge: Torment

**Summery: three weeks after the night on the rooftop, erik meets a young gypsy girl with a troubled past in the sewers of paris. erik finds he can identify with her and becomes god friends with her. after bringing her to the opera house, erik finds she is replacing all thoughts he had of christine. EOW. rated for later chapters (not too much sex, but mature themes). characters based on the movie portayel**

**Disclaimer: i own nothing, except the charactors i created. **

Prologue- Torment

Erik sat at his organ, furiously pounding at the poor keys. Haunting, anger filled music danced in the air of the catacombs under the Opera Populaire. Music that reeked of pain, despair and hate, all laced together by a soft undertone of love. For these were the emotions that ravaged poor Erik's soul. The unending betrayal of his love haunted his dreams, and poisoned his once sweet adoration of her.

_Christine,_ he thought bitterly. _why? Why have you teased me so? Why did you make me want you, and then betray me? Why?_

With a snarl, Erik shouted her name as the music crescendo to a livid tune that would make even the Devil himself shudder. This was his release, the only one he would ever get. Only the organ did not turn away from his touch. It would always make his music for him.

"Damn you, Christine!" Erik cried to the ceiling of his grotto. "Why have you done this to me? I hate you! Do you here me? I HATE YOU!"

Erik stopped playing and collapsed on his organ sobbing. For three weeks he hadn't eaten, slept or left his lair. He hadn't done anything but play since that night in the snow, when his once angel betrayed him.

_The snow was falling as from the shadows Erik watched Christine sing to that boy. That melody which haunted his psyche. _

Say you'll love me every waking moment,

Turn my head with talk of summertime.

Say you'll need me with you now and always.

Promise me, that all you say is true,

That's all I ask of you

She went into that boy's arms willingly, reacting to his voice, his song more than she ever did his. And when she sang again, she was literally begging him to free her from the terrible "darkness" and hold her forever. Their sweet duet was so full of love and passion, that Erik's very soul began to unravel. But the final blow came as he witnessed Christine and Raoul's passionate kiss, as they spun in the snow. Erik let his tears fall, crushing the rose she dropped, the rose he had given her. He was so consumed in his grief that he barely noticed the happy couple leave the cold rooftop. She left him alone in his misery, the fallen tears turning to ice upon his face…

CRASH!

Something crashed upstairs, sounding like it was from the sewers. Screams of anger and bloodlust reached Erik's ears. Grateful for the interruption from his thoughts, Erik left his lair to find the reason for the commotion. It could very well be intruders coming for him, but mob was heading in the wrong direction.

Climbing through the many passages under the Opera House, Erik finally came to the sewers of France. The light here was good, as there were torches lit for the sewer workers. Erik could see his way very well, which only meant that the mob could too. The mob was not so far away, but not so close as to pose an immediate threat. He followed the sounds of the mob, blending in with the shadows incase anyone would come this way. But as he rounded a corner, a small figure collided straight into him.


	2. Chapter 1: A Different Kind of Gypsy

**Chapter 1- A different kind of Gypsy**

Erik was briefly shocked to see a small girl run straight into him at a breakneck speed. Instantly snapping out of it, Erik caught the girl before she fell to the ground. She struggled with a strength he was surprised to see someone so small possess.

"Let go of me, please! Let go!" she screamed in heavily accented French. Erik loosened his hold on her, merely gripping her shoulders so she wouldn't run away.

"Hush, I won't hurt you," Erik soothingly said, wanting to calm her down. "Please, calm down. I just want to help." But the girl hysterics continued.

"Help me? No one wants to help me or any of my people. We are merely garbage you not fit to spit on."

Erik held on fast, taking in her appearance. Obviously, the people she spoke of were gypsies. He recognized her accent as Romany from the years he had been among them. She dressed in a black skirt that didn't quite reach her ankles and a red velvet bodice laced in the front. Very Gypsy. But her oval face and skin suggested anything but Gypsy. True her thick wavy hair, heavily mussed by running, was black as any gypsies, but her skin behind the layer of dirt was a fair, slightly sun kissed tone. Looking into her angry tear filled eyes, he saw they were a vivid green. Looking deeper, he saw the pain of someone who had been hurt and ridiculed wherever she went. He saw incredible strength. Yes, she was a Gypsy. He also noted, that she was very beautiful.

Breathing heavily and staring challengingly at him, the girl whispered, "Please let me go, they'll find me."

Understanding this was who the mob was after, Erik knew she stood no chance of eluding the mob. The only thing to do was take her to his home.

Letting go of her shoulders, Erik told the girl, "They won't hurt you. I can take you somewhere where they will never find you." he held out his hand to her. The girl looked at him suspiciously and didn't take it. She tried to run around him, but Erik swiftly caught her.

"No, let go. I don't want to go with you." She was screaming again. Erik held on fast to her, rubbing her shoulder to soothe her. "Please, I just want to help you," he said. "I don't need any help. Please let me go," she ended with a sob.

The voices of the mob were dangerously near now. _Damn, we've wasted to much time._ The girl whipped her head around, fearfully gazing to where the mob would soon be.

Shakily, she whispered to him, "What is your name?"

"Erik."

"Well Erik, if I go with you, do you promise not to act like a Frenchman?"

Not fully understanding what she meant, Erik nodded. Taking of his cravat, Erik told the girl, "I will have to blindfold you." The girl's eyes widened and she looked ready to run again. "You see, I like my privacy and I would prefer that no one know this place I am taking you to."

Turing her around, Erik whispered in her ear, "Just trust me."

Slowly, the girl nodded and Erik placed the material over her eyes. Erik took her hand and lead her to a passage in the wall. Before entering, Erik had one question he had to ask.

"What is your name?"

"Sita Palak"

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	3. Chapter 2: Down that Path into Darkness

**I don't mean to sound bitchy, but i would like it if people reviewed. Its really discouraging as a writer to get no feedback. Please, constructive critisim is welcome, but just review. sobbing, please**

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Chapter 2- Down that Path into Darkness.

Sita could hardly believe what she was doing. She had put her life into the hands of a complete stranger, a Frenchman at that. Blindly, she was following this man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to some forgotten place that she would never be found. Sita shivered at the thought of that.

"Are you cold?" Erik's musical voice said, startling Sita out of her thoughts.

"Wha- oh, no I'm actually fine." apparently, that answer wasn't good enough for the man, as he took his cloak off and placed around her. Sita snuggled in to the warmth of it, using one had to hold the cloak to keep from tripping. Erik took her other hand again and led her further down. Or were they going up? Where were they going? Sita, normally a strong person, began to panic at the confusion in her head. The confusion broke her concentration and she tripped on a stone. Strong arms caught her from falling again and promptly lifted her off the ground, carrying her. Sita felt oddly comforted by this and relaxed against Erik. This strange masked man was unlike any Frenchman, or any man, she had ever met. He had not judged her for being a gypsy or tried to hurt her in any way. Instead he had tried to help her, something no one had ever done for her before. This man made her feel safe, especially now that the cries of the mob were becoming fainter and fainter.

Holding Sita close to him, Erik walked down the winding passages to get to his home. He felt a strange pull towards the girl, which was odd as she was a gypsy. Erik had hated the gypsies for what they had done to him in his past and here he was helping one. Plus, Erik never bothered much with helping people unless it were Mme. Giry, Nadir or Christine. _No, don't think about her._

Struggling to forget Christine, Erik looked at the girl in his arms. She was so young, and in the same position Erik was in when he was a child. Maybe that was why he was helping her. He couldn't bear to see someone so young and beautiful suffer for being different. This girl seemed to have a bizarre combination of strength and childish innocence, so different from Chris- _Don't think of her._

Stepping through a curtain, Erik entered into his lair. He placed Sita in a chair by his organ and removed his cravat from her eyes.

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	4. Chapter 3 Because I'm Different

**sorry for the lack of updates. here's a nice long chappie for ya to make up for it. i expect to update again sometime next week**

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Chapter Three- Because I'm Different

Sita gasped as light came flooding back to her. She was in the strangest place she had ever been in. She was seated in an underground grotto that was lavishly decorated in all sorts of clutter. They were candles everywhere and heavy velvet drapes covered what Sita suspected to be mirrors. More drapes covered passages into other rooms. The only exit Sita could see was by the opening in the small lagoon which, much to Sita's dismay, was covered by a portcullis. Next to her was an enormous organ covered with candles and music. Sita felt like she was in a pirates cave.

Erik smiled at with amusement at the girl's wide eyed wonderment. He sat down at his organ, his movements bringing the girl out of her awe for a moment.

"What is this place?" she asked, gazing at the candelabras on the water and the small gondola. Sita's awe warmed Erik's soul. _She is such a child._ "This is my home."

Sita snapped her attention to the strange man. "You live here?" she said in disbelief. Sita studied Erik. He was such a puzzle to her. He she first met him, she found it very odd that a finely dressed man would be wandering the sewers. But it further puzzled her that he would live down here.

"Yes, I live here."

"Why?"

Erik turned towards Sita, all amusement from his face gone. His white mask glared at her as he whispered harshly, "Because I'm different." he turned away from her, and began furiously writing on a piece of parchment.

Her question seemed to have offended Erik, but it was one any person would ask. Sita recognized the bitterness and hatred towards the world in his voice, caused form being hurt and shunned. Sita understood what it was like to be shunned for being different. But she was a gypsy, why was Erik shunned? The only thing different about him was the white mask that covered half of his face. That side was turned from her, and Sita noted that his uncovered side was very handsome. Watching his irate writing, Sita noticed Erik seemed to be a bit mad, or perhaps he was just angry at her question.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offended you."

Erik paused from his writing and turned to again face the girl in his chair. She was sitting with her legs hugged to her chest, wrapped up in his cloak. She was so small that she fit perfectly in the chair, just the tips of her bare feet over the edge of the chair. Her beautiful eyes looked back at him, full of sincere remorse. She spoke again, "I just found it odd that someone would live underground. I've never heard of that before."

Erik softened at the girl's apology. "No apologies are necessary Mlle. Palak. I am just not used to have guests. You must forgive me for my manners."

Sita laughed slightly and said, "Well, my mother says I'm far too curious for my own good."

Erik laughed at that, happy that they were back in a better mood. Curious himself, Erik asked, "How old are you, child?"

Sita straightened up, putting her legs down and exclaimed, "I am no child! I just turned sixteen and in my culture that is practically an adult!" Sita glared at him for that indignity. Erik began to laugh. This girl was truly a little firecracker.

"What are you laughing at, Monsieur?" Sita was both angered and shocked at Erik's mockery of her.

"You, Mademoiselle. You are no adult, that much I can see. You are very much a child," Erik said calmly, not wanting Sita to rage at him. "An adult is stern, never laughs. Adults have no imagination."

"You insult yourself."

Grinning, Erik rose from the bench and knelt beside her. Sita leaned back in her chair, slightly uneasy by his closeness. "there are a precious few adults who escape this. They are the artists, the ones who retain all of their imagination, who can envision splendor and beauty beyond your wildest dreams."

"Do you mean yourself, Monsieur?" Sita said shakily. She wished that Erik wasn't so close. Sita didn't trust men, besides those who she knew very well.

"Yes. If you have not guess already, I am a musician. More so, I run the Opera Popularie, which is right above us."

Sita gasped, looking upwards. "You, run the Opera?" It didn't make sense. Erik lived down here and had made it quite plain that he was not accepted by the world. Then how could he run the world's most famous Opera house?

"Indirectly, one could say. I insure that the theater is run properly, help with the casting. After all, I did build this theater."

Sita was curled up on the chair again, eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. She looked very much like a child listening to a story. "You built the theater."

"Yes." Standing, Erik walked to the edge of the platform, his back turned to Sita. "Tell me, mademoiselle, why were they after you?" He turned to look at her and almost regretted his question. Sita curled into herself and her face, which had been full of laughter and delight, now held pain and fear.

"W-well I was walking in the square, looking for some apples for supper tonight," she began shakily. "I was just minding my own business, but a little boy fainted and started convulsing. I believe he had epilepsy." Erik was surprised she knew that word. Not many people did, other than doctors. Obviously, Sita was very intelligent. Erik liked this girl. "People were screaming, wondering why he was doing this, and then someone pointed at me and yelled that I had witched him. As if I could!" Sita was close to tears now, her voice rising and breathing irregular. "They started throwing stones at me, even garbage! And the yelling! They said horrible things, said I should be burned and that I was an evil whore." Erik winced at that. He knew what it was like to be ridiculed and abused like that. "I ran down the street away from the mob, but they ran after me, saying they would string me up at the nearest tree. I found an entrance into the sewers, but they still chased me. I didn't do anything. I was just there. Just there!" Sita was a sobbing mess now, the innocence of her youth showing. "Everywhere I go, people do this to me, but I have never done anything wrong. I swear it. Why? Why do the hate me, burn our camps, rape us and, why do they hate us? Its not fair!"

Erik couldn't bear her sobs and pain any longer. He scooped Sita up in his arms and sat down on the chair, Sita on his lap. She curled into him, sobbing on her shoulder. Sita's innocence broke his heart. Because of her youth, she could not make sense of the hate directed at her and her people. Just like he couldn't when he was a child.

Again, Sita was comforted by Erik's embrace. He was warm strong, he made her feel safe. _Get a grip on yourself Sita,_ her mind berated her. _He is a stranger, a man like any man. Leave before he can hurt you._ but Sita would not listen to her mind, for once. Though they had just met, she felt as if she had known Erik all her life.

As her sobs subsided, Sita found her voice again. "Why do they hate me just because," Sita gasped at the sudden revelation she had. Looking deep into Erik's stormy gray eyes, she calmly whispered, "because I'm different."

Looking into her beautiful eyes, Erik saw her understanding, and the confusion that followed it. "Yes child, you and your people are hated for being different. But that's not the true source." Sita cocked her head, quizzical but silent. "There are people who can't accept anything different. And those people fear what they cannot accept. They fear anything that is unlike them because they feel threatened." again, Sita looked quizzical. "To protect themselves, the fear makes them lash out with hate, to keep what they fear docile and broken."

Sita remained silent after Erik finished talking. It all made sense. Hurt like hell, but made sense. Finding her voice, Sita inquired, "You speak from experience?"

"Yes." Erik grew uncomfortable by the girl's staring and suddenly said, "I believe the mob is long gone. Come, you should return home. No doubt that your family is worried about you."

Sita gasped. How long had she been down here? Papa must have had the entire camp scouring the city by now. She scrambled out of the chair and headed toward the gate, the only exit she saw. She was quickly pulled back by a strong arm.

"Not that way. That passage leads to the Opera House. We'll take the path we came by."

"We?"  
"The city is too dangerous for a young girl to roam alone." Sita opened her mouth to protest to his implication of her strength, and hastily added, "I do not mean to discredit your strength, which is beyond what I would expect from a girl your size," this was true. Erik remembered the strength in Sita's struggles, how hard it was to keep her from running. "But never the less, you mustn't go alone for there are all sorts of monsters on the streets, who use other weapons than strength to get what the want."

Sita froze at his words. Sita tried to will her mind to dam up against the flood of memories that came to her, but her defensives were useless. Sita felt like a million shards of glass were in her skin, digging deeper, reminding her of the numb pain that had been her life. _no, its over. Don't think about it. He can't hurt you anymore. WHY CAN'T I FORGET HIM? _Sita let the tears pour from her eyes as she surrendered to her memories. Memories that tortured her mind, poisoned her dreams. Memories she could never forget.

Suddenly she felt something warm warp around her, easing her mind a bit. A second later, she placed the warm shield as Erik's arms.

Erik cursed himself for causing her pain. He didn't know what had happened to her, but he felt a sudden rush of hatred at himself for endowing her with whatever was torturing her mind. He enclosed her within his arms, hoping she would feel safe, protected.

She did. Sita felt safer than she ever could. Erik's arms around her chased away the demonic memories ravaging her mind.

"I am sorry for causing you pain, Mademoiselle," Erik said to her. He tightened his arms around her, as if to keep her lanky frame from shattering. But she was stronger than that; Erik could feel it. Pulling back, Erik lifted her chin with his finger and looked deep into her damaged, yet defiant and hopeful eyes. "I'll return you to your home. As long as your with me, nothing can harm you. I promise."

Warmth spread throughout Sita, chasing away the monstrous memories. "Thank you. May we please go now? My family will be worried."

"As you wish."

The way he said those three words made Sita shudder as he blindfolded her again. But from what? Certainly not from fear. Sita pondered this as she felt Erik take her hand and led her out of his home.

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**so, we're finding out more about this sita. review!**


	5. Chapter 4 We aren't like the others

**Chapter four- We aren't like the others**

The trip back to the surface was relatively uneventful. Aside from a run-in with the rat catcher,

The trek was almost boring. When they arrived at the Opera house stables, night had fallen and the early April air was cooler than usual. Erik removed Sita's blindfold and told her to wait there and not to wander off. He had a feeling this girl had a knack for getting into trouble.

He glanced over at her while he saddled Cesar. The light of the full moon danced in her hair as she swayed a bit to something she was humming. _God, she's so beautiful._

Shaking himself, Erik mentally told himself that the feelings this odd girl was bringing out in him was merely an appreciation of beauty, nothing more. He knew from experience that beauty disguised ugliness underneath.

Sita was startled from her trance like dance by the gentle clopping of horses hooves. Erik was leading a white horse out of the stables, the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. Suddenly shy in front of the magnificent creature, Sita timidly raised a hand to stroke his fine, sliver mane. "He's beautiful", she whispered in awe.

A snake of jealousy slithered its way through Erik's veins as he watched the girl's reverence of the horse. He found himself wishing it were his hair that Sita was stroking, not the damned horse. "He's Cesar," Erik, replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Sita must have noticed his sullenness, for she fixed him with the most curious look, obvious oblivious to the feelings she elicited in him. Desperate to deter her from her curiosity, for he remembered her telling him it was great, she inquired, "That song you were humming, what was it.?"

"Oh, just a little ditty Mother Dela taught me," she said absentmindedly, still focused on the horse.

"Sing it for me."

Sita froze in mid stroke, in disbelief. _He wanted her to sing for him?_ Panic gripped her and she replied, in a wavering voice, "I cannot. You are a musician and I am an untrained gypsy who sings around campfires. I am afraid that my singing would pain your ears and bleed them."

"I believe I am to be the judge of that," Erik replied sternly, slightly irritated with her now. "Now sing."

"But, I-"

"Sing."

The harsh, commanding tone in Erik's voice unnerved Sita slightly. Seeing as he was going to be unmovable on the subject, Sita sighed and resigned herself to the upcoming humiliation.

_Tell me a story,_

_Fairy of the moon._

_Entreat me to some of your knowledge,_

_Fairy of the moon._

_I am merely a lonely wanderer,_

_Who has seem to much._

_A nameless vagabond,_

_Longing to escape for a while._

_Dance with me,_

_Fairy of moon._

_Teach me out of my clumsy ways,_

_Fairy of the moon._

_I seek simple comfort in your magic,_

_The pleasure of the unexplained._

_Spin your silk cocoon around me,_

_And guide and guard me for eternity._

_Laugh with me,_

_Fairy of the moon._

_Tell me a story,_

_Fairy of the moon._

_Dance with me,_

_Fairy of the moon._

Sita let her last note die, and met silence. In the distance she could hear two tom cats in a heavy spat. She looked up at Erik, cautiously, not knowing how he would receive her song. She was most surprised when she saw the awe and surprise in Erik's eyes. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. _he liked my singing?_

Erik didn't know what to say. He was dumbfounded, completely bewildered and utterly amazed. This common gypsy girl had the voice of, well, he didn't know what. Certainly not an angel; there was too much pain, longing and lack of innocence in her voice. Her voice was too dark and mysterious to be that of an angel. She was something greater than an angel. She was a muse, Euterpe incarnated. Never had he heard anything as beautiful as her voice. She made Christine, who had the fruits of years of his instruction, seem like a common club singer. "That, that was…" Erik couldn't find the right words to enlighten her to what he thought. He had to say something or she would surly think she sounded atrocious. "That was amazing," he said at last. "Never have I heard anything like your voice."

Sita's eyes widened at his words. _He's he jesting! Surly I can't have been that good._ But one look in his eyes told her he was being truthful. "Thank you, monsieur," she replied shyly, lowering her eyes and shuffling her feet awkwardly.

The girl's modesty of her gift touched Erik. Normally, people gifted with a talent for song were poisoned by ego. Carlotta and Christine were prime examples and this girl could outshine them any day. Lifting her chin so she was staring into his eyes, he said, "Never have I heard anything as beautiful as your voice. I find it very hard to believe that you have had no training." Sita opened her mouth to protest this, but Erik quickly cut her off. "I say this because your voice is so good, so very untampered with. It is natural, the most beautiful sound in the world. I want you to promise me something Sita."

She looked at him warily, eyes, narrowed slightly. "Promise you what," she said, unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

"Promise me that you will never again doubt your talents in song or insult them. You are far too gifted for that."

Tears of happiness and appreciation welled in her eyes, as she smiled at him. "I promise." He smiled back at her and to Sita, it was the most beautiful thing she had seen. He reached up a hand a wiped her tears away, then cupping her cheek. Sita then realized how close in proximity she and Erik were. Why, their chests were nearly touching! Old habits and memories came back to Sita and she immediately pulled away and looked away, but not quick enough to miss the hurt in Erik's eyes.

_Of course she pulls away_, Erik thought bitterly. _She's a beautiful girl who probably has many admirers. Beauty doesn't want to be touched by Beast._ an awkward silence fell upon the pair as they determinedly kept from making eye contact. After what seemed like centuries, Erik said, "Come, we must be off. The night is deepening and I'd rather not bring you back home too late. I know from experience how suspicious gypsies are."

He said the last sentence with utter poison and contempt, provoking Sita's fiery temper. "Yes, but we are correct in our suspicions," she retorted. _How dare he talk of my people in such a manner. What is this experience he talks of? He hasn't the slightest inkling as to what my people are like._

While she was fuming, Erik climbed up onto Cesar. He broke Sita out of whatever metal tirade she was engaged in by grabbing her around the waist and swinging her up in front of him on Cesar. He gave her a minute to adjust herself, noting with amusement that she sat astride, giving Erik full view of her skinny legs. Looking away quickly, he clucked once at Cesar, and the pair rode off through the deserted streets of Paris.

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Erik slowed Cesar to a halt as they approached the Gypsy camp half a mile outside of Paris. It was not too far from the road and close to the city, but secluded enough for the gypsies to have their privacy. _How alike we are,_ Erik thought before he could stop himself. He swung off of Cesar and held out a hand for Sita, but it was too late. She had already jumped down off the horse in a most unladylike fashion, landing with an awkward thump. It was actually rather endearing.

"Well, thank you monsieur," Sita said awkwardly, not sure what to do now. She knew Erik wasn't too fond of gypsies and wouldn't be too comfortable coming into the camp. _He must have had a horrible run in with another caravan. _Well, Sita couldn't change whatever happened to him in the past, but she had to make him see that all gypsies weren't the same. Her caravan was one of the more benevolent groups, one of the few that did not deserve the poor reputation gypsies have. Suddenly filled with purpose, Sita held out a hand to Erik, saying, "Come."

Erik hesitated, and took a few steps back. He could not go into that camp, that _gypsy_ camp. For the first time in many years, Erik feared being put back in a cage. Sita must have noticed his discomfort, for she smiled warmly and said, "Please come, my parents will want to meet you." After a moment Erik took her hand.

The journey to Sita's tent wasn't as bad as Erik expected. True, there were some stares, but they were inquisitive stares, wondering who the strange man with Sita was. Some of the campers rebuked Sita on the lateness of her return and thanked Erik for bringing her back. He was, well, taken back at the friendliness and utter warmth this place radiated. It was nothing like the other caravan that had made his life a living hell.

When they came to her tent, a little girl who looked to be no more than six ran headlong into Sita, wrapping her skinny arms around Sita's legs.

"Sita, you're back . I thought you had been captured by the stone gargoyles and were taken to Tartarus and that I would never see you again and I wouldn't know what happens to Laka!" the child buried her head in Sita's thigh, sobbing. Erik watched this scene with a rather amused eye.

"Ngana, I'm not going anywhere," Sita said laughing. "And you will know what happens to Laka, I promise." The little girl, Ngana apparently, seemed to be appeased. But the older gypsy woman who next came out of the tent was not.

"Sita, were on earth have you been?" she shouted angrily. "Your father is at this moment looking for you, along with five other men and Kartik. Do you have any idea how worried we were about you, young lady you are sixteen years old and still you have not learned how to behave like an adult. Do you how dangerous it is for a young girl to be out on her own?" the woman stopped her angry tirade for a moment to catch her breath. And in that moment, she noticed Erik standing there. "And who is this," she said glaring at him suspiciously, as if she thought he had harmed Sita in any way. Was he to be plagued by people always thinking he was a monster?

"I'm sorry I was out late Mama. I ran into some trouble, and this man, Monsieur Erik, helped me out of it," Sita said to the woman, apparently her mother. The woman's face softened as the suspicion went out of it. In a completely different tone, she said "Forgive me Monsieur for my misgivings about you, its just that Sita has a knack for getting into trouble and a worry about her and…"

Erik cut the woman off, his feelings for her changing now that he saw her suspicions were only motherly concern. "No apologies are necessary; I understand how this might look to you. I assure you I never hurt your daughter, only insured that she wasn't lynched by a mob.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Sita glared at him, Ngana, tightened her grip on her sister and the woman gasped saying, "What! Sita," she looked at her daughter for conformation.

Sita sighed, knowing that she would have to explain this to mother. "Yes, a boy went into spasms in the market today and I was accused of witching him. Erik prevented the mob from finding me." She wouldn't tell her mother where they went or how Erik took her there. She wouldn't give out secrets that weren't hers to give. "You know, I think I should show Erik his way out of the camp so he can go home, alright?"

Erik started to say that he didn't need to be shown out but Sita's foot stomping on his own put an end to that. She didn't even wait for a reply, just took him by the elbow and marched him out of the camp to where Cesar was tied.

"Thank you again for, well, saving me. I truly owe you my life," Sita said, gazing at him with those big, beautiful green eyes, the moon illuminating her face. _So beautiful_. Erik resisted the temptation to stroke her soft cheek. Instead he took her hand and placed a feather light kiss on top of it. In the darkness, Erik could see a blush crawling onto Sita's face. He smiled and said, "Any time."

Sita found herself gazing deep into Erik's beautiful grey eyes, entranced by them. She did not notice that Erik had pulled a bag from behind him until he placed it in her hand. Confused, she opened it and found…apples. Then she remembered, she told him that she was buying apples when she was attacked. Could this man possibly charm her more or be more kind?

Sita was about to say thank you when she noticed that he had climbed back onto his horse and was about to ride off. She remembered she was still wearing his cloak and handed it back to him saying, "We aren't like the others."

Erik knew she meant her gypsy camp. And she was right. The gypsies here were kind and caring; her mother only had qualms about him because of her love for her daughter. He smiled gently and replied, "I know." Without another word, he rode off, but he heard Sita call after him saying, "Can I ever see you again?"


	6. Chapter 5 Market Meetings

**well, here it is. the next chappie. it took me a while to write because i have two other stories and school started and i had no computor this weekend. so hear ya go.**

* * *

**Chapter Five- Wonderings and Market meetings**

Try as she might, Sita just couldn't sleep. Wedged between her sisters Ngana and Parvati on a pallet in their tent, Sita's mind refused to quiet and allow her some much needed rest. Even Ngana's warm breath, softly whispering against her neck, couldn't lull her into sleep.

She just couldn't stop thinking about Erik. He was a strange man that was for sure, dangerous too. But Sita felt completely at ease with him, felt a connection with him that went deep. She felt like she had known him for years, even though they had just met mere hours ago. She already thought of him as a friend, a very good one, like Kartik.

She wondered if she would ever see him again. He was already riding off when she asked if she could. Perhaps he didn't hear her. Sita frowned and felt oddly saddened by the prospect of seeing him again. He was pleasant to talk to, the only adult who treated her like an equal. She was sure that she could be completely open with him about everything. Well, not everything. There was one secret he would never be told.

_There was pain, cutting deep into the soul. My mind was caught between the realms of sanity and madness. The hard rocks in the ground dug into my back, and my body was racked in the most horrible pain. Like daggers._

Sita gasped and shot up in bed as she woke from her trance like memory. She heard a groan next to her and saw that Parvati was waking. Her twelve year old sister rubbed her eyes sleepily, pushing her black hair out of her eyes.

"Sita, what's going on?"

"Nothing, I've just been thinking too much. Go back to sleep Parvati."

Parvati sat up and studied Sita, her liquid black eyes boring into Sita's emerald ones. For a girl her age, Parvati had the intensity and maturity of an old woman. Sita found herself looking away form her sister's eyes, knowing Parvati had a way of finding hidden secrets in people's eyes.

"That's not true Sita."

"Yes it is," Sita retorted scathingly back, annoyed with her sister's prying. "You can't possibly know if its true or not. You can't read my mind Parvati. And go to sleep, you'll wake Ngana."

Parvati ignored her last comment and pressed on. "But I can read you're face, Sita. Something's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong Parvati, go to sleep."

"Then why are you crying?"

Sita touched her cheek and was surprised to find it damp with her tear. Odd, she didn't remember crying. She froze. Sita knew from past experience that this wasn't good. She had to get out of the stuffy tent to someplace she could breathe. Furiously wiping away her tears, Sita sprang from the bed and grabbed her shawl.

"Where are you going?"

Sita glanced back at Parvati with a cold look and said in an equally cold voice, "My, you are just full of questions tonight aren't you." Sita turned before she saw the hurt look on Parvati's face that she could feel there. Without another word, Sita walked out of the tent.

The cool night air felt so wonderful on her face, perfect to calm her thoughts. She felt guilt settle in her stomach for being so cruel to Parvati, but she had to get out of the tent before the numbness settled over her, and the blackness that came with it.

Sitting on a stump on the outskirts of the forest, Sita cried out the horrifying numbness and the evil blackness until her soul was drained of it.

Temporarily.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Two Weeks Later_

"Erik? Erik where are you? Answer me man!"

From his chair in the library, Erik grinned as he heard Nadir Khan calling him. The foolish man had obviously used the gondola and was currently barred from Erik's home by the portcullis. The foolish man! He knew better than to come this way. By all means, he deserved to be kept out there waiting to be let in for hours on end. But, alas, Erik would not do that to the first friend he had ever had. Sighing, Erik set down his book, _Le Notre Dame de Paris_, and entered the main room of his home. Sure enough, the tan, thinly tall, green eyed form of Nadir.

"Ah Daroga, so nice to see you again," Erik said, pulling the lever that lifted the grate, allowing the fuming Persian in.

"Where on earth have you been?" he said while climbing out of the boat, advancing on Erik. "I haven't heard anything of you in nearly a month, and when Antoinette comes down she says you were a blithering drunk mess. Goddamnit Erik, she was out of her mind with worry over you!" Nadir was right up in his face, angry fire burning in his eyes. If he didn't know better, Erik would have thought it was hatred he was seeing in Nadir's eyes. But Nadir cared too much and was deeply worried about him. Erik was painfully reminded of seeing Nadir like this before, only over his dying son Reza. Guilt seeped into Erik's veins, horrified at the pain he had put both Nadir and Antoinette through. He opened his mouth to apologize, but was cut off by Nadir. "And what have you been doing. Given the circumstances, you look remarkably well." Nadir didn't need to say what those circumstances were, Erik knew all to well.

"Let's just say I have had a pleasant chance meeting," he said, aware that he was grinning like a fool. He was also aware that he had tickled Nadir's curiosity, thus dissolving his anger.

"A lady?" he said rather hopefully. Erik was touched that his old friend cared for his happiness.

"A girl actually, just turned sixteen."

"Tell me about her." The two men entered Erik's library and sat down as Erik told his friend about Sita.

"Well, she young, smart, with a fiery temper and could make the strongest of men cower in fear. Her only problem is her knack for getting into trouble."

"Trouble you say?

"Yes, that is actually how we came to meet. She had being chased a lynch mob and found her way into the sewers where I found her. I brought her hear until the mob had quieted."

"Lynch mob?" Nadir's eyes widened comically, the shock, outrage and utter disbelief that people would attack a child written plainly on his face.

"She's a gypsy." Erik didn't need to say anymore, that simple statement said all. Like Erik, Nadir too knew what it was like to be shunned and maltreated for being different. As a Persian and Muslim, the devout Catholics and xenophobic people of Paris feared him.

"And, is she alright after what happened?" Erik was touched by the worry and concern Nadir had in his voice for a girl he had never met. It was one of those moments that made Erik happy he found a friend in Nadir. He was truly a rare person.

"Yes, the girl is fine. I saw her safely home and back to her family."

Now Nadir's concern for Sita turned to shock of what he had been told. "Y-you went out in public!" The world had to be askew!

"Yes, I wasn't about to let the girl roam around Paris after dark. You know damn well what the streets of Paris are like then, Nadir," Erik said firmly. Nadir was looking at him oddly, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Well, my old friend, you never fail to surprise me. Here I was thinking that you would never help anyone in the world unless it was Antoinette, Christine and I. And now, you help a girl you don't even know and go straight into a camp of the very people you despise."

"She's a special girl. I don't think I could ever let anything harm her. No, I KNOW I would never let any harm befall her," Erik said softly. "As for her people, they are the kindest people I have ever met. They are truly not like the others."

Erik saw Nadir's face go from shocked, to puzzled, to understanding and something else Erik couldn't identify. Was it recognition? And then there was a sharp gleam to his jade eyes, as if Nadir had figured something out.

"Do you feel anything for her?"

"I don't know. I felt completely at ease around her, if that's what you mean."

"No, that's not what I mean. Does she make you _feel_?"

Erik paused before answering. This was the same thing he had been wondering for nearly two weeks since his meeting with Sita. Sleep eluded him hours after he lay down, as his thoughts were so full of her. Even sleep could not keep her away for her beautiful face weaved its way into his dreams. The more he thought about her, the more Christine seemed to pale in comparison to the gypsy girl. Sita was strong, impulsive, and didn't take garbage from anyone. Well, she showed a certain obedience and respect for her mother, but that was to be expected. Sita was just so different from Christine, so much better. She was someone he could admire, someone he could talk to and freely. And she had the most glorious singing voice he had ever seen. She was truly Athena incarnated, not a muse. She was to strong to be a muse.

"I admire her Nadir," Erik began slowly. "I admire her, respect her and haven't been able to get her out of my mind for these past to weeks. She's very intriguing and she makes me feel…"

Nadir leaned forward, much like an eager child at Christmas, waiting for his present. Erik could feel his friend's anticipation for his answer.

"Yes?"

"She makes me feel like am not alone."

Erik could tell this was not the answer Nadir had been looking for, but it was the truth. It ought to satisfy the former chief of police while Erik had more time to sort out his thoughts concerning Sita.

Without ceremony, Nadir rose from his seat and gathered his coat. "Well, my friend, now that I know that you are well and can report to Antoinette without fear of death (Erik chuckled at that), I will cease bothering you this fine morning." Walking to the gondola, Nadir continued, "I must go to the market this morning. There is someone I wish to see there."

Erik's curiosity was peaked. Grabbing his cloak, he said, "I'll come with you."

Nadir turned around with a rather amused expression. "You? Come with me in broad daylight. I must say, I am rather surprised." Although he said he was surprised, Nadir's tone suggested otherwise. It was as if he expected Erik to come with him, wanted him to. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Yes, I shall keep my hood over my face." He took in Nadir's expression. Suspicious, he said "You're up to something!"

With a slight smirk and a raise of his brow, the Persian replied, "Possibly."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Milling through the busy Market square, Erik fought off waves of claustrophobia and panic. _Perhaps this wasn't a very good idea._ Sticking close to Nadir, Erik felt as helpless as an infant. While he was the dark Hades of the Opera House, Erik had almost no experience when it came to the busy markets of Paris. He was completely dependant on Nadir and that galled him to no end. Nadir on the other hand, looked as if he was enjoying himself greatly. He took humor from his friend's foul mood.

"Come, there is one stand we must go to," Nadir said, gesturing to the south of the market. "The person I mentioned his there." With a twinkle in his eyes, Nadir led Erik to a small stand selling beautifully patterned and dyed silks. There were silks of all colors of the rainbow, some plain and some embroidered elegantly. And there selling a forest green length of silk to a corpulent lady was Sita.

Erik sputtered for a moment, not believing that he was seeing the one he had been dreaming of for two weeks. She looked different today, something had changed. Then she looked nothing like she had when they had met. Instead, she was dressed in a clean white blouse with a navy corset embroidered in gold thread over it. Her skirt was a vivid green that matched her eyes. A purple scarf was wrapped around her hips, giving her slight figure more curves. Her silky hair was pulled into a long braid that hung down her back and gold hoops adorned her ears. Her movements were elegant, and her face composed. She looked beautiful, like a woman. She didn't seem like the dirty, disheveled, clumsy, stubborn girl he had met.

"I take it this is the girl you told me about earlier?"

Nadir's voice startled Erik out of his thoughts. He was looking at him in a knowing, yet challenging way. There was hardness in Nadir's eyes that said he didn't want Erik near this girl. Erik felt seething anger begin to boil in his blood at his friend's distrust. But before he could say anything, the fat woman had paid for her silk and left, Leaving Nadir and Erik the next in line. Actually, they were the line, but that was hardly relevant. All Erik knew was that he was three feet away from the most glorious creature to ever walk the planet. He could smell her jasmine scent, almost feel her essence permeate him.

And then she changed. No longer was there the serene, elegant woman, but a giddy child with wide eyes and a cheerful face.

"Nadir, its so wonderful to see you. You haven't been by the camp for more than a week. What's kept you?" Sita squealed, hugging the Persian from across the stand.

Sita knew Nadir? Apparently so, as they greeted each other like a fond uncle and niece. It was blatantly obvious that Nadir cared for the girl, which went to explain Nadir's hard eyed and warnings. He was just the same as Sita's mother, wanting her to be safe. Why? Sita was a girl who was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, she shouldn't be treated like a naive child. She was anything but. It was strange, Sita was two years younger than Christine but had more maturity than Christine would ever have.

"Erik?"

Once again, Erik was startled out of his thoughts, this time by a sweet, accented voice that sounded like a spring rain and moonlight fog combined, childish innocence and mature wisdom. He found Sita staring at him, her emerald eyes gazing at him. Her beautiful face was full of shock and joy. Was this divine creature actually happy to see him? The very thought of that made his heart swell.

Sita peered under the dark hood, she was sure it was Erik. In her delight at seeing Nadir, Sita had felt a strange presence permeate her, congealing the air into a thick swirl of spice and musk. It had to be Erik; his strange, mystical essence that he radiated was so familiar to Sita, having felt it in her dreams. Sure enough, there was a tall, dark cloaked figure with sharp grey eyes piercing out from under a hood. Squinting her eyes, Sita saw the white blur of a half mask.

"Erik it is you!" she squealed, louder than when she had greeted Nadir. Several shoppers turned and looked at the spectacle, shaking their heads and murmuring about the incivility of gypsies. But neither noticed. Sita was too caught up in seeing the man she had spent so much time pondering about and visiting in her dreams. Erik, on the other hands, was thrown completely off guard when the girl threw her arms around him, squeezing him as tight as the table between them would allow. _Well, this is different._ Erik couldn't recall a time in his life he had been willing hugged. Well, Madame Giry had, but she hardly counted. He had never been willing hugged by a young, beautiful girl. Not even Christine had. Of course, Sita hadn't seen his face.

But it was over almost as soon as it had begun. Sita pulled away, blushing deeply and looking over at a nearby fountain, where Erik spied Ngana and another girl who looked to be about ten or so playing. Sita obviously didn't want her sisters telling stories to their protective mother. He also saw her glance at two gypsy boys. One was rather young, barely older than Ngana. The other, however, had to be at least Sita's age and bore no resemblance to Sita or her sisters. Erik felt the familiar burning of jealousy course through his veins like morphine. So, Sita had a beau!

After seeing that the "spies" Mama had sent were distracted, Sita turned back to Erik, alarmed by the hardness in his eyes as he looked over to where the boys were. Was that jealousy she saw in his eyes? After he noticed her looking, his eyes soften and he became the Erik she knew.

"Well, how have you been?" Sita felt rather awkward now, hardly knowing what to say. The simple question seemed a good way to start a conversation, though. And she truly wanted to know.

"I have actually been quite well, quite well indeed," Erik replied. _So, they would make small talk._ That hardly surprised him. They hardly knew anything about each other.

"That's nice…" Sita trailed off. What on earth was she to say now? That she had been thinking of nothing but him for the past two weeks? That it was the memory of him that fought of the darkness? That provoked it? How could she even tell him about the reason for that darkness? The questions burbled around in her head, muddling her thinking in wooly thickness so dense that she only vaguely heard Erik say something to her.

"Oh, what?"

"I said, what are you doing hear, selling these?" Erik repeated. He noticed the vagueness in Sita's face, remembering it meant she was lost in her thoughts. It was the only thing he could think of to say to her. Damn, where had Nadir gone?

"Oh, well, we have to make money somehow. This is an honest way to make a living, not like what other camps do." There was definite poison laced in her voice.

"No, I mean why are _you_ selling these?"

"That's simple, I made them."

"You made them?" Well, color him surprised. He could hardly believe that little Sita had made these with her own, elegant, little, divine hands. This fine silks, with there lush colors and delicate embroidery looked to be the work of the greatest weaver in the world.

Sita was aware she was blushing now. "Yes, we trade for silk thread and I make the dyes, weave the cloth and decorate it if necessary." Disbelief was still written on Erik's shadowed face. "I know they aren't that good but they do sell rather well and my sisters love them."

"Stop."

Sita looked at Erik in shock. She averted her eyes, shame creeping on to her face. She had no right to boast like that. Now he must think her some stuck up, spoiled whore of a gypsy. Damn, why did she always have to ruin everything?

Erik noticed her shame and quickly spoke to fix the damage he created. "Listen to me Sita, Never, ever again have doubts about your talent. Never speak so little of yourself." Sita's eyes lifted and met his. For an instant, Erik could see the times of a degraded child, but by whom? "You are an incredibly gifted artist, your voice, and these silks. Never have I heard or seen such remarkable beauty."

Sita felt tears prick her eyes. His praise felt so good. All her life she had been taught to be modest, only singing to herself or around the fire. Her people never lavished much praise on one another. Merely, they could commend you for a job well done or applaud politely. It was also expected to disregard the praise, acting with humility and humbleness. Obviously Erik knew nothing of her people.

Trapped once more in her thoughts, Sita slipped from the world. Again, Erik noted this, but decided to give Sita her peace this time and let his words sink in. Leafing through the rainbow of silks, Erik came upon the diamond in the rough among the dazzling gems. It was a true beauty, such that only a true artist would appreciate it. It was plain by society's standards, but elegant. The long reel of silk was a deep indigo color that glimmered a vivid blue in the sunlight. It was soft to the touch and strong too. It had to be the most beautiful cloth he had ever seen. He didn't know why, but Erik had to have that silk. He didn't know what he'd do with it, but he needed it.

"How much for this Mademoiselle?"

"Hmm? Oh that, well you can have it. No one will buy it and I owe you so take it."

Erik protested this, but in the end, Sita managed to convince Erik to take it for free, but with one condition.

"Alright, what is this condition you speak of?"

"That I can come and visit you again."

Erik was shocked by her request. But, nevertheless, he conceded to her condition. Sita squealed with delight and clapped her hands like a small child would when given a treat. God, Erik could swear that Sita shared her body with the soul of a child and the soul of an adult. Slipping the silk underneath his cloak, Erik was unpleasantly surprised when he saw the young man he had seen earlier come over to them.

Upon closer inspection, Erik could see he was definitely a gypsy. His coco skin was smooth, flawless and his face handsome, crowned with ebony curls. His opal eyes glared suspiciously at Erik, taking a spot far to near to Sita for his taste.

"Monsieur, you have lingered here too long and I will thank you to be own your way." Well, if it wasn't the Vicomte as a Gypsy!

Before he could say anything, Sita whacked the boy's arm, albeit playfully. "Kartik, will you stop acting on my mother's order's to the letter? You know damn well I can take care of myself."

The boy, Kartik, grinned. "Yes and that's why you almost drowned in the River."

"That was because Rama pushed me."

"Yes, but you do have a knack for getting into trouble."

"And I can always beat you in a fight and sweep the floor with your remains." After this, Sita stuck her tounge out at Kartik.

A relieved sigh escaped Erik. This two were obviously not lovers; their childish banter proved that much. However, they did seem rather intimate.

"And who are you?" Kartik said, glaring at Erik.

Sita jumped to his rescue. "This is Erik, the one who helped me out two weeks ago. Remember? I told you."

"Ah." The boy's protective attitude dropped and he nodded at Erik. But before anymore words could be exchanged, Nadir had returned, stopping all current conversation.

"Well, we shan't keep you to much longer. Erik and I must be off. Good to see you Kartik. Sita, take care of yourself." Leaning over the table, Nadir place a light kiss on her cheek. "Adieu, my children."

Erik turned to go with Nadir, nodding once at Sita. As before, her voice was the last thing he heard in their parting.

"I shall hold you to your bargain, Monsieur!"

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**p.s.: if you review, i'll give you an erik clone to keep!**


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